


At the Edge of Blood

by Shrineofstones



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Blood Kink, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Desperation, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Table Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8198782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrineofstones/pseuds/Shrineofstones
Summary: He waits for Jason to let go for a moment more. Sighs when he doesn't, already braced for yet another power play, and steps even further into his space instead, "I want you, Jason."Jason stiffens even further, his grip on his finger turning into a vice, "do you really, Replacement?"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sadistrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadistrix/gifts).



"I don't know why you won't just _listen_!"

"And I don't know," Jason says, through gritted teeth as he throws his helmet down on the kitchen table, "why you won't just take a _hint_ , Replacement. I might've stopped murdering people quite so much, but I'm still not a member of your grand heroic band and never will be again. You might as well just accept it."

He grits his teeth, bounces on his heels for a long moment. With anybody else he'd be a lot calmer than this, a lot more capable of pointing out the bare facts of the situation, but with Jason... He's never been able to. The man just has a way of getting under his skin.

"I refuse to," and so, instead of backing off for a few moments and considering a different tactic, he forges ahead. Strides right up until he's standing in Jason's face, and even dares to prod him hard in the chest, "you still have good in you, Jason, and I refuse to let it go to waste."

"Don't you think I've had this speech enough times from Bruce?" Jason growls, glares down at his finger in a manner presumably designed to remind him that he's lucky to have it still attached to him after that sort of stunt, "besides, I don't particularly think I'm letting it go to waste. I'm still doing some good in the world, even if it doesn't match up to your high Bat Scout standards."

He bites his lip, breathes through his nose for a long few moments. Doesn't remove his finger, even though it would be definitely the sensible option by now, "you would be doing much more good if you came home properly."

Jason's gaze slides a touch more hostile, his entire posture tenses, "here we go."

"You would be doing much more good," he continues deliberately, ignoring the hostility in favour of plunging onwards as recklessly as he always does, "if you returned to your family and actually worked _with_ us, Jason."

"You don't want me," Jason says flatly, reaches up to finally grasp his finger in a tight grip. Doesn't shove it violently away, not yet, but instead holds onto it so tightly that he has to grit his teeth over a gasp, "as much as you may pretend, as many _speeches_ as you may give to try and convince yourself otherwise, you've all made that abundantly clear. I'm the Black Sheep of the family, and you feel better when I'm far away."

He waits for Jason to let go for a moment more. Sighs when he doesn't, already braced for yet another power play, and steps even further into his space instead, " _I_ want you, Jason."

Jason stiffens even further, his grip on his finger turning into a vice, "do you _really_ , Replacement?"

"Yes," he says levelly. Sure, despite all the bile that Jason may spit in his face, that he's telling the absolute truth, "and Bruce does, and Dick does, and even _Damian_ does on occasion. You try to paint yourself as worthless to us, you try to present yourself as the hopeless loner doomed to forever linger outside the window, but you're _not_. And I think you know that, Jason."

Jason's grip remains tight, painfully so. His chest is rising and falling faster than he's ever seen it, his eyes have gone wild and he looks so close to shaking that he can actually feel the tremor of his muscles between them, "I know nothing."

"I wouldn't go that far," he huffs, and watches Jason's eyes narrow in something that may well be rage but that may well also be terror, "I’m right, and there's no possible way you can refute it. I don't know why you persist in acting like the permanent outsider, Jason, but-"

The kiss comes as a surprise. More than a surprise, as such a mild word doesn't quite describe a feeling so akin to being shot in the chest several times. Jason somehow tightens his grip on his finger even further, _yanks_ him in so hard that he actually unbalances and falls into that muscular chest. Their teeth clack together violently when their mouths meet, and he tastes blood on his tongue just a second afterwards.

It's... A great deal less unpleasant than he would've expected it to be.

"I am _not_ part of your family," Jason snarls when they part, still so close to him that he can feel a gust of burning hot air across his lips with every single word, "there, refuted. Will you give up now?"

"No," he says, quite simply, and refuses to lean back. Simply runs his tongue over the inside of his mouth, tastes the blood still lingering there with a certain sense of cautious pleasure, "not when you've refuted absolutely nothing. Family doesn't stop being family, Jason, no matter how hard you try to pretend."

Jason's eyes narrow, so far that they're more slits than anything else, and then suddenly they're moving. Jason using his greater bulk, those muscles that he's always considered in a faintly detached way before now, to spin them - to slam him back against the wall, so he's pressed there with Jason's chest against his and Jason's face just a few breaths away.

"I am also _not_ your brother," he hisses, actually shaking now. It's fascinating to watch him come apart at the edges, and he's not sure yet if it's fascinating like a first kiss with someone you've had a crush on for ages or fascinating like a car crash where thirty people have died, "and, as such, I feel pretty confident in saying that I'm not the one pretending. Now fuck off and leave me alone, or face the consequences."

He makes a face, makes sure that Jason sees it... And sees him. Not heeding his words at all, not even trying to move away from this burning wreck, "hardly my style. And I can hardly _move_ , when you're still pinning me here."

Jason's eyes narrow, go dark with something that wants to be fury but that falls just a little short.

The kiss is a little more telegraphed this time. A little more violent, and even better for it. Their teeth don't collide as Jason snaps at his mouth like some sort of wild animal, but that's only because the man sinks them into his bottom lip before they have a chance to. The taste of blood surges in his mouth again, he can already feel himself starting to get hard from this simple contact. It's a fight for control, in the best possible way.

Jason draws back even less far, this time. Hovers so close that their lips still briefly brush together, when he opens his mouth to speak, "I said-"

"I know," he murmurs, and arches up into another kiss before Jason has the chance to moralize again, "let me provide a retort."

The next kiss is deeper, so much closer than it was before. It starts off just lips, just the same brush of teeth, but steadily grows into something so much more. He throws his body violently against Jason, their hips bumping together in a grinding motion. It takes a long few moments, in which he half starts to wonder if he's going to be thrown out on the fire escape after this, but eventually Jason presses up against him in a long thrust that leaves his legs shaky.

...Shaky. It’s been a long while, perhaps even since Steph, since an act as simple as kissing has made him feel _shaky_.

Jason kisses him like that for a long few minutes more, taking control in a way that sets fire to his nerve endings. He presses him back against the slightly crumbling wall of the apartment, thrusts into the space in between his spread legs and holds him there with the impressive bulk of his body alone.

And then...

Obviously not feeling in control enough, and how right he is, Jason grunts into his mouth. Gets those huge hands under his ass, and _lifts_ him up like it's the easiest thing in the world. Suddenly up in the air, he forces down the urge to let his fight reflex take over and wraps his legs around Jason's thighs instead. Grinds against him in a long movement, their cocks bumping together through the fabric of their jeans in a way that only makes him feel hotter.

He feels his back grind up against the old and crumbling plaster for a moment more, and then he finds that they're moving again. Jason turns them away from the wall, carrying him as easily as if he's a feather. Takes a few easy steps - and then spreads him out over the kitchen table, chairs rattling aside as he follows him almost all the way down.

"You're bleeding," Jason whispers, reaching out to touch his mouth. It's only then that he realizes that the taste of copper wasn't just due to how excited he was, that his lip has actually been bitten open and is probably leaking blood right down his chin.

"It's irrelevant," like he cares. He arches up, and drags Jason right down into his arms.

They make out for a few moments more, Jason being the one - surprisingly - to try and keep the pace slow, but eventually he gets impatient. Uses all of his flexibility, all of his far less obvious strength, to arch off the table and grind his hips up against Jason's ever growing hard on.

And Jason grunts softly, licks at his lips as if chasing the taste of blood.

It's easy enough to edge himself up a little further on the hard wood, and get some more traction. From there it's a quick step to being able to grind his hips up properly, to rub their cocks together through the denim with a level of abandon that he never quite expected to reach.

And Jason groans low in his throat, nips at his lips again as if trying to get more blood out of him.

He keeps the rolling rhythm going by himself for a few moments. But eventually Jason gets the hint, stops timidly searching after the taste of blood and rocks back into him. Their motion goes from a vague rubbing together to a steady roll, and quickly progresses from there into downright thrusting. Jason is shaking above him, a tremble so intense that it actually shakes the table. He is little better below, his own movements becoming less controlled as the pleasure builds.

And Jason snarls so loudly that he feels it rumbling through his own chest, abandons the timid nipping in favour of a downright _bite_ that sends the taste of copper flaring up in his mouth more intensely than ever.

Both of their movements are getting less controlled, as the pleasure steadily builds. The world has narrowed from this slightly grubby apartment with its already crumbling walls, to just the two of them moving together. Jason's mouth remains on his, the taste of blood remains sharp. Their hips keep moving together, towards a crescendo of pleasure that may well flip everything when it hits.

And Jason actually yells as he rises half off the table, and the taste of blood is hot on both their mouths and hot across his chin and dripping down onto his shirt and-

And.

He whites out when he comes, so intense that the world around him actually fades away for a long few seconds. When he comes back to himself Jason is slumped on top of him, all of his weight flopped down right on his ribcage as he pants weakly into his neck.

His lip hurts, in the aftermath. His chin feels crusty, and his shirt is going to be a devil to wash. Jason is crushing his ribcage with his weight, a steady pressure that is going to probably make it hard to breathe in the morning. His back hurts, either from the hardness of the table or the wonkiness of the wall. He knows that he should feel heavy, doubtful, perhaps even somewhat ashamed over what lengths he's just gone to.

"I was right, you know," he says, utterly unashamed over what they've just done, and can't quite help just how smug he sounds, "we are family, even if you don't want to admit it."

"...Shut up," Jason grumbles, but continues to pant ever so vulnerably into his neck.


End file.
